My Heart
by Raive S. Reign
Summary: Inspired by the song 'My Heart' by Paramore. Yaoi. AkuRoku. Any more details you'll have to find out by reading.


Inspired by 'My Heart' by Paramore.

**My Heart**

Apparently, someone was watching the news in the apartment next to mine.

"Twilight Town police and county officials urge citizens to not shoot guns or other firearms in celebration of the New Year. Last year, five children…"

Someone turned the television off next door. I hated how thin the walls were.

This was definitely not the way I had planned to spend my New Year's Eve. Hell, there were only two hours left until midnight, and I was still sober.

Then again, some things are more important than getting sloshed outside your mind to welcome in a new year. Yes; he is more important than that.

He sat across from me, blank of face and blue eyes empty. I think that was what worried me most. Those cerulean eyes, usually so full of life and always expressing how he felt, were empty.

Is that how he felt now? Empty?

Between us stood my dining table, complete with tablecloth, my best china, and a full-course dinner. The meal took nearly four hours in all to put together, and I had made it specifically for him. I even lit two candles and turned down all of the lights in my seventh floor apartment, and had even served him. Then, I sat down opposite him and, like any good host, waited for him to begin dining before I did.

Thus the silence began. It took me a few moments to realize that he hadn't so much as spoken a single word since I had called him and practically begged him to come over a few hours ago.

I made a feeble attempt to start a conversation. "So…are you going to eat?" I asked. I still waited for him to begin eating, but the smell of the shrimp alfredo was starting to make my mouth water.

The corners of his mouth pulled down. "What do you want, Axel?" He emphasized my name to make it sound like the very mention of me was beneath him. I could see the beginnings of anger in his eyes.

That was definitely not a good sign. Shit. He wasn't being as forgiving as he usually was. That tender, caring heart of his held nothing for me now.

I sighed and tried again. "Roxy-baa—" I started.

"Don't call me that," he cut me off before I'd even begun my argument. "You don't have the right to call me that anymore." His voice was raw with anger.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Roxas had never—_never­­—_rejected that nickname before. I had given it to him years ago, when we were seven. His aunt had bought him a stuffed sheep, and he would take it everywhere. After a while, I couldn't help but taunt him about it, as most seven-year-olds would. I started calling him 'Roxy-baa'. He soon relinquished his obsession with the toy, but I never let him live down the name.

"What do you want?" he asked again. Some of the anger had left his voice, but somehow I knew it was still there, like a great river churning beneath a surface of ice.

Before I had even thought of how he'd react, I asked, "What's wrong with you?" As soon as the words flew from my mouth, I wished to take them back. But, no matter how much or how hard I wished, they fell upon his ears.

Then, like a river breaking free of its frozen restraints, Roxas exploded. "What's wrong with me?" he asked. His voice wavered as he struggled to keep from shouting. "What's wrong with _me_?" He stared at me, his blue eyes dark with anger. I could not hold his gaze; I took a sudden interest in the plate before me.

His seething subsided, but only slightly. Silence fell upon the table again, and after a few seconds, he said, "You have to ask."

I looked up, confused. "What?"

"You have to ask," he said again. "That's what's wrong with me." Frowning, he picked up a fork and finally began picking at his food.

So that was it. He thought I didn't realize what I'd done to him. Couldn't he see that I was trying to apologize now?

Maybe this wasn't enough. Maybe I'd hurt him more than I had realized after all. Maybe…maybe I need him like he needs me.

Maybe I'm too afraid to admit that.

Sighing again, I began to slowly eat my alfredo. It didn't seem to taste as good as it had before Roxas had arrived with his silence and painful truth. Damn.

Minute passed, and the only things to be heard were soft chewing sounds and the occasional slurping of a fettuccini noodle that was just a bit too long. Both sounds were from me, of course. Roxas made almost no sound as he ate, naturally as proper as ever. He had his mother to thank for that. I'd always been secretly jealous of his dining etiquette, but hell if anyone thinks I'll say it out loud, much less tell _him_.

I was starting to lose my patience, even more so because I knew that Roxas wouldn't say anything. He could probably eat the entire meal and leave without so much as a "thank you" or "good bye".

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" I asked, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Sure, I probably didn't have a right to be annoyed, but the silence was killing me.

He was just about to put a forkful of alfredo into his mouth, a piece of shrimp stabbed daintily at the end. He looked at me, piercingly blue eyes flashing, then lowered the fork back to the plate. The entire process was almost painfully slow, no doubt done intentionally to play on my nerves.

Emptiness in his eyes, he answered. "I don't want anything from you anymore. Or, rather, I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

My head jerked up to stare at him in disbelief. "What?"

He blinked as calmly as ever, then replied, "I don't want anything from you. I don't need anything from you. I don't want you to do anything for me. _I don't need you._" He shook his head slightly.

Confusion first, then anger flashed through my mind. "How could you _say_ that?"

Roxas frowned. His cobalt eyes bore into me, as if daring me to contradict him. I did so anyway.

"Roxy-baa—Roxas," I said, "We've been friends _forever_; even when we were kids. We grew up together, we went to the same school; we practically _lived _through each other. Why are you breaking that up?" I put down my fork and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms defiantly.

I could see his jaw clench as he tried to control himself. His eyes widen slightly, and the look he held on his face...I will never forget it. I only just managed not to cringe or flinch. After a few seconds, he took in a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly, looking down into his lap. When he looked up again, he was the same as he was before: distant and blank.

"Axel, I'm not even going to bother sugar-coating this," he said. "I love you. I'm starting to hate myself for it, but I love you, Axel. Nothing in the world can change that." He paused, as if to let that sink in. "And I know you love me too."

I didn't meet his gaze. I was looking anywhere else, but not at him.

Seconds passed. Then, "Look at me," he said. When I didn't, he repeated, "Axel, look at me." There was a sternness in his voice that almost forced me to obey. I tore my eyes away from a small crack on the wall behind Roxas and looked at him.

Those sapphire eyes watched me as I watched him. I took in his dark blond hair, which naturally stuck up at all angles. I saw his flawless pale skin, his beautiful bright eyes, his pinkish lips that I just _knew _were soft. Something deep within the recesses of my mind clicked, like an ancient door unlocking after too many years.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. A lump was forming in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down. "I can't do this anymore."

Roxas' face fell. He looked down, then up again. With a sigh, he said, "Well then, I guess I have no reason to be here." Pain choked his voice. He stood and began walking towards the door, without even the slightest glance back.

I blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. Then I quickly stood up and went after him, managing to smash my knee against the dining table. Some of the china consequently fell from the table, creating a noise that would've given any antique collector a nightmare.

Roxas paused to glance back at the sound of heavy glass shattering against the floor, just in time to see me hobbling after him. Then he turned and put a hand on the doorknob.

"Wait!" I nearly shouted. Mentally cursing my infernal knee injury, I shuffled behind Roxas as he opened the door.

"Wait..." I said again. I could hear the desperation in my voice; maybe he did too, because he just stood there, his back to me, waiting. Outside the door, I could hear the din of partying that was going on in the streets below. New Year's Eve was definitely a night to party.

"Well?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Look at me?" I asked him. I felt the awkward need to say this to his face; that beautiful cherubic face that I had neglected for so long...

He sighed heavily and turned around to face me. His eyes, his entire _being _looked empty. I was taller than him, tall enough to look down into his sapphire eyes.

"That's not what I meant," I said finally.

His eyes narrowed. "Stop playing games with me, Axel."

"No! No, I mean…" I sighed, trying to get my words together. "When I said I couldn't do this anymore, I didn't mean I couldn't…Okay. When I said I couldn't do this anymore, I meant that I couldn't keep trying to tell myself that I didn't love you. I'm sorry, Roxy-baa. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know why I'm like this, but I love you. I always have. I was just so stupid and…" I sighed again. I couldn't think of anything coherent to say, so I kissed him.

I was right. His lips were soft.

I pressed my own lips against his tentatively, almost afraid that he'd pull away. When he didn't, I kissed him harder. His lips parted a little, and I took the opportunity. My tongue automatically caressed his lips, coaxing them apart until it could slip inside.

The kiss deepened as I explored his mouth with increasing urgency. The scent of his skin filled my nostrils; he smelled pure, like summer rain. It felt as if all of my suppressed need to feel Roxas, to touch him, to kiss him, all came forth at that moment. I had refused myself his touch for so long, and now, it was all I wanted.

I was so lost in the taste of Roxy-baa that I almost bit down on my own tongue when someone cleared their throat. Regretfully, he broke the kiss, and I stared at him for a few moments before turning to our wretched interrupter.

It was Ms. Wilkinson, a prune of a sixty-year-old woman. She lived in the apartment across from my own. A few strands of grey hair escaped from the tight bun she always had. She didn't like me. Her beady brown eyes staring me down in disgust confirmed that.

Roxy-baa turned a lovely shade of scarlet. I nearly smiled, but instead, I just said, "Hello, Ms. Wilkinson."

She frowned, her mouth pulled into such a tight line that it almost blended with the countless wrinkles of her face. She shook her head and turned away from us, muttering under her breath about blasphemers.

We watched her open her door and slam it behind her. I looked at Roxas, who was still devastated. I struggled not to laugh at his mortification. He turned his emerald eyes to me and said, "Maybe we should…take this inside."

I smiled and nodded. He glided by me, back into my apartment. I followed him in, closing the door behind me. I turned, beginning to apologize to him, but his mouth cut me off. His warm tongue slid over mine as his hands slid over my back. I embraced him, my fingers memorizing the contours of his back through the fabric of his shirt.

Only breaking the kiss for gasps of air, we made our way to my bedroom. Roxas pulled away from me, spreading himself out on the black comforter. I paused, trying to calm myself, telling myself not to take this too fast. Roxas made a low, wanting sound, and I paused no more.

I crawled onto the bed. To him.

* * *

We laid there, our bodies pressed together, drawing ragged breaths. I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder, taking in his scent. He still smelled like rain.

The thought made me smile, and another thought made my smile wider. He was finally mine.

_Mine._

I lied there beside him, basking in afterglow. He moved closer to me, resting his head on my chest. I could feel his head against my heart.

For some reason, I felt the urge to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed. Its characters informed me that there were still two minutes until midnight.

I patted his head. "Come on, get up. I wanna show you something."

He groaned. "Do we have to? I just want to lie here, with you."

I laughed. "Me too, but I want to show you something. It'll only be here once a year."

He smiled. "Fine, but I don't like it."

We both climbed from the bed, pulling the sable comforter around us both. We padded to the largest window in my apartment. Drawing a string, the curtains parted to reveal a perfect view of Clock Tower Square, where the New Years Ball was dropped every year from the Clock Tower's eastern face. From my seventh-floor apartment, we could see the Square perfectly.

The clamor from the Square was enormous. Even through the closed window, we could hear the masses beginning to scream the countdown to a new year.

The giant ball lit up in a glorious arrangement of colored lights.

I pulled Roxas closer to me, and he tilted his head back, resting on my chest again. "You know I love you, right?" I asked.

I couldn't see it through his hair, but I knew he was smiling. "I know. I love you too."

I was beaming. My body flushed with the heat of knowing that right then, in that moment, everything was good and right and…_perfect_.

The crowd screamed, "5!"

"No matter what," I began.

"4!"

"This heart,"

"3!"

"It beats…"

"2!"

"Beats for only you."

"1!"

"I know," he said.

It was like the quiet before the storm, when everything seems impossibly calm before something really exciting takes place. Four things happened at once: the New Years Ball dropped, the crowd screamed, I heard two loud bangs, and my window glass cracked.

It was as if everyone had just suddenly gone mad. The noise the people in Clock Tower Square made seemed unbelievably loud. At the same time, I felt Roxas' body tense against my body, and he let out a pained sound, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

"Roxy-baa?"

He slid from my arms, and, stunned and confused, I went down with him. I ended up lying on top of him, staring into his brilliant blue eyes. They were wide, too wide. His face was twisted in pain. I couldn't figure out why he was like this all of a sudden.

I became aware of the fact that my chest was wet. I lifted myself up off of him to find that his body was covered in blood. The sickly red liquid pulsed from two holes: one near his stomach, and one near his heart.

He'd been shot.

My brain refused to process the situation. It refused to accept the fact that Roxas, my Roxy-baa, had been shot. Twice. For a few moments, I couldn't tear my eyes from his pained, bleeding form. When I did, I had the grim realization that I was covered from the waist up in his blood. I leapt back, kneeling above him instead of lying on him. Rather than doing something about Roxas, I focused on myself, on how the blood stuck to my skin, and how dark it was, anything to keep me from looking at _him._

I froze. I don't know how long I was kneeling there, staring horridly at myself, but his voice broke my concentration like a train.

"Axel?" He asked, his voice but a whisper.

My mind tried to block out the deathly vision before me, but panic overcame it. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I kept repeating. I had seen somewhere that you should apply pressure to a wound. I tried wrapped the comforter into two makeshift gauze pads, using both hands to press it onto each of his wounds.

I was afraid. No, more than afraid. I was at a level somewhere beyond petrified. My love, my heart, was here bleeding on the floor, and all I could do was lock up, then put a bundled blanket on the places he'd been shot. How stupid was I? Useless, pitiful, wretched, idiot!

Anger flared up within me. How could this happen? It had to be my fault. Somehow, it had to be.

"Axel," he whispered again.

My eyes widened. "What? Roxy-baa? Roxas? Stay with me Roxas, talk to me." I was panicked. I didn't know what else to say.

"Axel, my…"

"What, Roxas? What is it?" I could feel hot tears running down my face. I couldn't control it. I couldn't control anything. My love, my Roxas, was dying here in my arms, and I couldn't control anything.

"My heart…my heart is yours."

That completely caught my off guard. "Wh-What?"

I could almost feel him fading. Dying.

"My heart is yours."

He coughed, and a mix of spittle and blood sprayed into the air. He grabbed my hand, hard, but I didn't really feel it. I couldn't feel much of anything. I stared into his eyes, those beautiful azure eyes, and listened to him repeat it.

"My heart is yours."

I couldn't think of anything to do. He was dying. He knew it. A small, logical part of me knew it too. But still, I watched the light fade from his eyes, felt his body slowly stop moving, and listened to his heart beat one last time.

"My heart is…"

He gasped, and then there was silence.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I, Raive S. Reign, do not own Kingdom Hearts or its characters.

Constructive critism greatly appreciated. I hope I managed to entertain you for a least a little while.

**_~Raive_**


End file.
